


And All These Things That You Learn

by InkandOwl



Category: Whatever- SJ Goslee
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining, Practice Kissing, underaged drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 09:02:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10693779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkandOwl/pseuds/InkandOwl
Summary: Cam watches Mike’s mouth in such an obvious way, Mike chokes a little bit on the smoke and coughs, “You should try it with me.”There’s no easing into the suggestion, nothing to prepare Mike for his best friend telling him he should try his sexual exploration out on him.  “Excuse me?” He wheezes and Cam shrugs like it’s an obvious solution.





	And All These Things That You Learn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skoosiepants](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skoosiepants/gifts).



> Title comes from the song "What's In It For?" by Avi Buffalo

It’s Tuesday when Cam sits down loudly behind Mike in Economics and says, “I heard you made out with J.J.” He says J.J. like one might say _syphilis_ , or _coleslaw_. Mike scans the immediate area for anyone who might’ve heard, and turns around to put a finger in Cam’s face.

“Who told you that?” 

Cam has a paper clip between his teeth and he grins like a predatory animal, “Lisa.”

Mike clenches his hand in a fist and hisses out ‘ _traitor_ ’ into the ether. He suspects Lisa will feel his betrayal wherever she is. 

The paper clip clicks and clicks and clicks when Cam spins it around the grooves of his teeth and finally he takes it out and taps it against the desk, “Why didn’t you tell me about it, man? Is J.J. your type?” He gestures vaguely to the air in front of him, “He’s just so willowy.” 

“I didn’t tell you about it, because I don’t really remember it. Lisa watched or something.” Mike tells him.

“What a voyeur.” Cam says it like he’s impressed. 

There’s a sort of uneasiness that sits in Mike’s stomach, knowing that Cam _knows_. He came out to him, he knows Mike’s bisexual, but the fact that Cam has knowledge that he’s had his tongue down J.J.’s throat is an entirely different animal that he has no bearings on. He squints at Cam, because it feels right, and because Cam gives him a peace sign like they didn’t just have this conversation. Mike turns back to the whiteboard, then back to Cam, rinse and repeat, and finally asks, “Willowy?”

“Like a Bon Iver song, baby.” He warbles out a hollow sounding note that makes Mike laugh hard enough to be reprimanded by their teacher when she tries to start class.

##

 

It’s Wednesday when Mike finally chases down Lisa and gives her an earful for telling Cam about J.J.

“Did he get all homophobic about it and beat you up?” Lisa has her compact mirror balanced between her knees while she tweezes her eyebrows. It’s a dangerous thing to be doing on the school bleachers in the middle of gym class. Mike stays quiet, just stares at her until she’s forced to look at him and sigh, “Did he?” 

“Well-“ Mike crosses his arms over his chest, “no. Seriously though, it’s awkward.” 

Lisa is the only person in the entire school that manages to look decent in her gym shirt and she brushes her stray eyebrow hairs off the front of it, “I only told him because I know you already told him that you’re gay-“

“Bisexual”

“-and I thought you had already let him know about it. He’s your best friend, I think it was pretty reasonable for me to assume you told him about your drunk hookups.” She has the decency to at least look a little bit guilty. 

Mike puts his face in his hands, not because he’s terribly aggrieved by the situation, but because he’s still hung up on it being Cam. Mike’s known Cam since the dawn of time, he’s positive that they were primordial ooze together when some cosmic level shit went down and created the universe. But Cam knowing that Mike could hypothetically be with a guy, and Cam knowing that Mike _has_ been with a guy, are two totally separate entities. “Hey” Lisa bumps her leg against Mike’s, “He didn’t act real shitty to you did he?” 

The idea of Cam acting like anything but Cam is laughable and Mike stares at Lisa until she concedes that it was a stupid question.

##

It’s Wednesday night when Mike rides his skateboard over to Cam’s house and stumbles across his lawn when the wheels catch the edge of the driveway. “Ten out of ten for the elegant landing.” Zack is standing outside with the garden hose hanging dejectedly from one hand, a joint held carefully in the other. Mike makes a grunting noise while Zack takes a long drag. He smokes like a poet, all long fingers and delicate curls of smoke and Mike shoves his hands in his pockets to keep from shoving them up under Zack’s shirt. 

The front door is cracked open, and Mike slips past Zack, following the sound of Ned’s Atomic Dustbin to the basement. Cam is spread across the couch, a thin stream of smoke streaming between his lips. The Scott brothers are a very particular breed of dangerously relaxed. Mike grunts, the sound he supposes he’s limited himself to for the night. Cam smiles at him like he’s come home from war. “Your brother is out there gardening.” Mike tells him, and collapses next to the couch with crossed legs.

“Oh, totally doubtful.” Cam says, but offers no more of an explanation. “Lisa told me you wigged on her today.” 

Mike folds his arms on the couch cushions and leans his chin on them, “Are you guys having a constant discussion about me or-?” He doesn’t finish the question just stares at the way Cam brings the blunt back to his mouth and takes a long pull before offering it to Mike. It’s a cigarillo that he’s gutted, but it’s neatly rolled and Mike fumbles around Cam’s being for the lighter, finding it half tucked beneath his ribs. 

“Not really, I think she just felt bad. She wanted to make sure you were alright.” He’s staring at Mike from a position that gives him a double chin and Mike finds himself shifting forward so that’s not something he has to look at anymore. “Are you alright?” 

A Breeders song kicks on next and Mike revels in the bass line for a moment, “Yeah, I think everything’s just happening a little quickly.”

“With J.J.?” Cam sits up and tucks his knees to his chest so that Mike can sit on the couch with him.

“No, not with J.J.” Mike hopes he looks as affronted as he feels, and Cam laughs loudly, so he imagines he does. “Just, everyone finding out pretty much the same time I am.”

Cam tilts his head, “That you like to kiss dudes.” It’s a statement, not a question, but when Mike nods slowly to the dartboard on the wall Cam nudges him with his foot, “But you don’t really know, do you? You don’t remember making out with J.J. so your guy on guy fumbling is a hypothetical.” 

“Except it really happened.” Mike has to really work at the lighter before he can finally take a hit. 

Cam watches Mike’s mouth in such an obvious way, Mike chokes a little bit on the smoke and coughs, “You should try it with me.” 

There’s no easing into the suggestion, nothing to prepare Mike for his best friend telling him he should try his sexual exploration out on him. “Excuse me?” He wheezes and Cam shrugs like it’s an obvious solution.

“You’re sober, I’m sober- ish.” He has flannel pajama bottoms on and an oversized T-shirt that boasts about internet safety on it, and he leans himself against the couch in a way that Mike has to interpret as him trying to be seductive. “Come on, then you can know for certain if equal opportunity employment is in fact a part of your dating regime now.” 

Mike balances the blunt on the ashtray that Cam’s made out of a cat bowl, “Cam, you don’t want to kiss me-“

Except Cam does, in fact, kiss him. He grabs Mike’s face a little roughly, and Cam’s teeth snag on Mike’s bottom lip, the angle is way off, and Mike grabs Cam’s wrists and pushes him away. Mike’s seen Cam look a lot of ways in his life, but uncertain isn’t one of them, so when Cam looks at Mike like he’s afraid of being _rejected_ , by _Mike_ , it makes Mike’s stomach feel a little funny. “You almost broke my nose, man.” Mike says, a little breathless, but he doesn’t give Cam time to answer him. He kisses him again, slower and without the urgency to devour each other’s faces. It should be super fucking weird, _and it is_ , but Mike also really, really, _really_ likes it. Cam’s lips are a little chapped, but they’re warm and soft and it feels nice when he runs his hands up Mike’s sides, even over the fabric of his shirt. 

Cam looks as winded as Mike feels when he pulls away. His cheeks are flushed and his lips are red and wet from kissing, and why hasn’t Mike ever noticed what a perfect bow Cam’s top lip makes? Cam hums and it’s the most grounding sound Mike’s ever heard, “So- still like kissing boys?” 

Mike blinks stupidly, “Jesus fucking Christ, yes.” Cam grabs Mike by the hips, guides him into his lap and laughs, carefree and so very Cam, into Mike’s mouth, before he’s kissing him again. Mike knows that he should probably clarify with Cam what it is they’re doing, but Cam slides his tongue between Mike’s lips and all Mike knows is that he _needs_ whatever it is that Cam’s willing to give him. “Is this- gonna- make- things weird?” Mike digs his fingers into Cam’s hair and Cam bites Mike’s lip, like a warning shot.

“No, shut the fuck up.” His fingers skate up underneath the hem of Mike’s shirt and he groans, “I’m not going to let you be garbage in bed, what sort of shit bag friend would that make me?” 

It’s a god-awful reason to get off with each other, and Mike sees it for the thinly veiled excuse it is, but he and Cam have never done things the conventional way. Mike kisses him again, short and innocent despite being positioned in Cam’s lap, “If I don’t stop I’m gonna want more. More than kissing.” Mike’s already getting hard in his pants and he’s got poor self-control. Cam shrugs and runs his hands over Mike’s thighs.

“So?”

“So-“ Mike drags the ‘o’ out, eyebrows furrowed seriously, “You’re straight.”

Cam digs his thumb and forefinger into the corners of his eyes and then looks at Mike the same way his teacher’s look at him in class when they call on him and he wasn’t paying attention. “What do you want?” 

Mike _thinks_ that he wants to keep making out with Cam. He _thinks_ that he wants to see how far he can take this and maybe get a hand down Cam’s pants. But he _knows_ that he’s prone to over emotion and impromptu falling in love, and he’s a little worried that Cam’s dick might actually be something their friendship isn’t ready for. Because Cam and Mike have a Wonder Twin harmony, Cam pats Mike’s leg, “Alright, big guy, no more kissing today. When you’re feeling a little vulnerable in a day or two, we can do it again.” Cam squeezes Mike’s hips and relocates him on the couch, pressing a tumbler glass into his hand. It’s full of amber colored liquid, and before Mike can tell him that alcohol is only going to lead to _more_ kissing, Cam tells him, “It’s just apple juice.” 

Mike drinks half of it in one sip and pretends like he isn’t choking on it. He’s aware Cam is looking at him, but he swipes his hand over Mike’s hair and collapses back onto the couch. Finally Mike glances back at him and says, “That was fun.” 

Cam laughs and it makes Mike grin despite himself.

##

They do this four, five, six more times, progressing from the couch to Cam’s bed, and it isn’t until Mike is breathless underneath Cam in just his boxers, that he thinks they’re toeing a dangerous line here. Cam is trailing kisses down Mike’s neck when he tugs Cam’s hair, “Should we- should we stop?” 

He doesn’t want to stop, it feels incredible, and Cam’s fingertips are pushed just barely under the elastic band of his boxers. Cam looks up at him and grins, and he looks stupid because he has a yellowing bruise underneath his left eye where he took a ping pong paddle to his face just last week. “Only if you want to.” His voice sounds a little wrecked. 

Mike closes his eyes and takes a steadying breath. It’s too hot in the basement, and Cam’s hand feels like fire against Mike’s stomach. “If you touch me, I’m gonna come.” He tells Cam honestly. 

“Wicked.” Cam shoves his hand into Mike’s boxers. He only has to stroke him a few times before Mike does actually finish with a stifled cry into Cam’s shoulder. 

 

Mike still feels like he’s shaking apart at the seams when Cam rolls out of the bed in his bright red briefs and drags his acoustic guitar from it’s spot underneath the couch. “Hey, I want you to listen to this song.” Cam folds himself up like a pretzel on the bed, knees splayed out as he tunes his guitar. Mike pushes himself on weak arms, leaning against the wall, and drags the sheets around himself. 

“Is it good?” 

Cam ignores him though, plucking out a beachy sounding tune. Mike’s always liked Cam’s voice. It’s a little bit raw and he sounds like he’s coming straight off of vinyl. Mike’s never heard the song that he’s singing though, but he knows Cam hasn’t written it, because the subject matter doesn’t boast of tobogganing with dead presidents or putting his dick in Godzilla. He pokes Cam’s knee with his toe, “What is this?” 

Cam chews his guitar pick thoughtfully before telling him, “Avi Buffalo. It’s called ‘What’s in it for?’” 

Zack barrels down the stairs then, looks at both of them and goes about digging through Cam’s pile of clothes, “Hanging out in your undies now? That’s odd, even for you two.” 

“It’s really hot.” Mike defends, and it _is_ a little bit steamy in the basement.

“It’s like forty degrees outside, Tate.” Zack produces a sleeveless hoodie that doesn’t look like it’s been cleaned in a few thousand years. “Were you guys hot boxing in here?” 

Cam plucks mindlessly at his guitar, “Having sex.” Mike thinks he might pass out, but Zack just smells the hoodie and shrugs, disappearing back up the stairs. “He doesn’t believe that.” Cam tells him for good measure when Zack’s been gone long enough to assume he’s out of earshot. Mike lays back down, wraps himself up in as many sheets as he can pull out from underneath Cam and yawns. He’s exhausted, and it’s Friday, so when he asks Cam if he can crash at his place, he isn’t surprised when Cam says, “Of course.” 

He is surprised when he’s halfway to sleep and he feels Cam climb underneath the blankets with him and wrap his arm around Mike’s waist. Mike’s far too tired to say anything. 

When he wakes up at four in the morning, mouth drier than the Sahara, Cam is sleeping with his arms stretched up above his head, dirty blond hair splayed over his pillow. He looks a bit like Mike imagines a young Apollo might look, and then shakes the thought from his head, because it’s far too poetic and Mike finds himself scrunching his nose up in the dimly lit room trying to work out where his mind even dredged _that_ up from. He hauls himself out of bed and drinks an entire water bottle he finds in the mini fridge Cam keeps in the basement. When he falls back onto the bed, Cam rolls half on top of him and presses a kiss against Mike’s jaw, breath even and warm against Mike’s cheek. 

Panic sits like a heavy weight in Mike’s chest and he waits until Cam is fully asleep again before he moves onto the couch to sleep for the rest of the night. 

 

##

 

Lisa is tiny compared to Meckles, but when she swings her hand back and catches him in the stomach with it, he nearly doubles over. Lisa, however, is in the middle of telling a story, and she’s not about to stop because of a gesticulation gone wrong. Someone in this situation is beyond drunk and Mike is beginning to suspect that it’s him. Lisa is brandishing a plastic bottle of Pinnacle vodka in his face though, so there’s a good chance it’s her too. “I can’t believe the amount of damage you can do your sheer lack of critical thinking.” She says to Mike with a maternal concern on her face, “I’ve just never seen him look so _sad_.”

She juts her bottom lip out in an over exaggerated pout and Mike tilts his head, “Wait, what?” 

Lisa shakes her head and looks at Meckles like he’s going to back her up. He’s insistent on smoothing out the front of his flannel shirt though. “Mike, who hurt you? Was it me? Was I the one who made you so emotionally- emotionally-“ 

She flails her hand in front of her until Meckles says, “Fucked?”

“Fucked! Yes, so emotionally fucked.” She passes off the bottle to Meckles and puts her hands on the sides of Mike’s face. 

“I wish I knew what you were talking about.” Mike says despite his mouth being squished inward. 

Lisa holds her hand out, arm extended like a ballerina and bows her head, “Cameron.” She snatches Cam’s wrist as he passes by. 

They haven’t yet talked about that night at Cam’s house last weekend, and Cam’s gone about it like it hasn’t happened at all. They’ve had band practice twice since then and Cam’s scaled the roof of St. Luke’s on the corner, only to toss himself into the retention pond. Everything has been on par for normal Cam activity. Except that Cam hasn’t actually talked directly to Mike since then. Mike misses their casual hooking up, and the way Cam seems to know exactly how Mike likes to be kissed. But mostly, he just misses Cam. 

Lisa is stroking Cam’s face, the way she just was with Mike and cooing at him. Cam makes eye contact with Mike, but Mike thinks it’s probably on accident. Mike shrugs at Cam like he hasn’t fathomed out exactly what it is Lisa’s on about, and he hasn’t. Cam grins a little, a faint tug at the corners of his lips and it has Mike high with it. “I’m going to leave. I’m going to take Meckles and we’re going to go into another room and you guys will talk.” She’s so drunk, Mike thinks about all the great blackmail he’ll have on her for this, but he’s also distracted by Cam holding onto Lisa’s wrists and practically begging her to stay.

“What the fuck, I’m not that bad.” Mike’s not aware of how loud he’s said it, until the three of them turn to look at him. “You’re all acting like you don’t want to be around me.” Maybe not Meckles, but he suspects that Meckles doesn’t want to actually be at this party anyways. 

Cam though- Cam looks fucking pissed, “What the fuck are you talking about, you’re the one that left and didn’t say anything.” 

There it is, Mike thinks, “Cam-“

Lisa does drag Meckles away then, leaving Mike to stare down the face of a very angry Cameron Scott, “If you didn’t like it, you could’ve just said something. You let me-“ He takes a deep breath, “You let me think that this was actually _something_.” 

Mike can feel it winding up in his gut, the absolute worst thing to say, “I thought we were just messing around. You know, for fun.” 

For a horrifying moment, Mike thinks Cam is going to cry. Cam doesn’t cry but once every turn of the century, and when he does, it’s an unsalvageable hurt. “I know, _I know_ , there’s no way you really believe that. I took you out to dinner, _I played you a song_.” It’s dawning on Mike in a crush of sobriety. Their communication skills are startling, Mike thinks someone could write an entire psychology thesis on this moment right here.

“You should’ve _said_ something, Cam. I can’t read your mind. It started out as a nothing thing, just practice kissing. When were you going to tell me that it wasn’t that?” Mike’s angry now too, because he can’t be expected to shoulder the weight of every poor decision the both of them have made to get to this exact moment in their lives. 

Cam’s a stubborn piece of shit though and he grits his teeth, jaw working under his skin. His cheeks are flushed red, from a combination of alcohol and emotions, and he drags his hand once over his face, and then his eyes actually are watery, and Mike would like nothing more than to hold his breath until he passes out. “You’re right.” It’s quiet, but Mike hears it like an air horn, echoing in his skull, “I thought maybe you were feeling the same things I was. I wanted you to feel the same way.” 

The world is narrowed down to this. The two of them right here, in a hallway in Mo’s house with a rager happing right outside. There should never be a moment allowed, where Mike is the one trying to work emotions out of Cam, when Cam is the one who has offered up enough support for Mike’s snot sob breakdowns, to put any therapist to shame. A few weeks ago, Mike wasn’t making out with his best friend on every solid surface, though. So he braces one hand against the wall and asks, “How do you feel?” Mike hates the way Cam is standing in front of him wearing pastel colored windbreaker and loafers, and Mike still thinks he looks like a Hollywood heartthrob. 

Cam sets his mouth in a crooked line, hands dug into his pockets, “I love you.” It’s glaring and vivid and it shakes Mike to his marrow. 

“You’re straight.” Mike’s mouth says the words but his mind is screaming, ‘ _are you fucking kidding me?_ ’ 

“I guess you’re the exception.” Cam sighs, “Look, if you give me like, two weeks, I can get over this and we can go back to being fr-“

Mike doesn’t let him finish what he’s about to say though, because it’s a load of shit and not actually an option for them. He kisses Cam like he’s starring in the next Nicholas Sparks movie, arms wrapped tightly around Cam’s neck. “Say it again.” 

Cam looks like he might fall over, “You’re the exception?”

“No.” Mike snaps, greedy hands twisting up into Cam’s hair.

Despite Mike’s urgency, Cam kisses him slow and sweet, “I love you. You’re my best friend and I love you. I’m in love with you.” 

Mike smiles against Cam’s mouth, because _this_. This is what he’s been trying to place. This is what he’s been running from, and it feels so right, “Nice.”

Cam laughs and lifts him easily, Mike wrapping his legs around Cam’s waist. “To the basement.” He declares.

“Don’t drop me down the stairs.” He says, but he’s caught up in the way Cam’s neck looks bare and in need of a sick looking hickey.

“I would never.” Cam grips Mike’s ass and glances over his shoulder.

“You have.” 

Cam can’t argue that, so he says nothing, and takes the basement stairs two at a time, just so Mike will cling to him a little tighter. 

##

When Mike wakes up in the morning, there’s not a bone in him that doesn’t ache, and he stretches, hoping that that’ll work some of it out. It doesn’t, but he rolls over and Cam is right there, dead asleep with his arms above his head, and Mike doesn’t really care about his joints anymore. There’s an impressive collection of love bites over Cam’s neck and chest and Mike thinks vaguely, that he looks like art. 

He’s learned a lot about himself in the span of twenty four hours. He’s learned that he likes the way Cam has slightly calloused fingers, and the way they feel over his bare skin. Mike knows now that not only does he like getting blowjobs, but he likes giving them too. 

He knows that everything Cam Scott has ever done in an effort to make Mike smile, is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to him. And he’s learned that he’s in love with his best friend. 

Mike curls up against Cam’s chest, burying his head underneath his chin, and wiggles around enough that he knows it will wake Cam. “Two more hours, _at least_ , Tate.” Cam says, voice thick with sleep, but he kisses the top of Mike’s head and drapes his arm around him, pulling him closer. Two more hours does sound nice.


End file.
